


Overdue Lessons

by lickitysplit



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bonding, Dadgil, Family Bonding, Family Issues, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Swordfighting, Swords, Vergil doing his favorite past time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickitysplit/pseuds/lickitysplit
Summary: Nero checks on the Devil May Cry and finds Vergil instead. Unfortunately, Vergil is looking to spend quality bonding time doing the thing he knows best: kicking the crap out of his relatives. Oneshot.
Relationships: Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	Overdue Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and thank you to Solynacea for reading this over for me!

Nero slides his key into the lock on the front door of the Devil May Cry, yawning a bit. It is a rare thing for the place to be closed up like this, but when Dante is away on a job for more than a day or two he usually asks Nero to just check in, grab the mail, make sure that no one or nothing has burned it down. Dante had called him five days prior, saying he’d be gone for a week, but Nero ended up having to deal with his own crop of demons in Fortuna. Couple that with parent/teacher conferences and a busted window in the van, he hadn’t had a moment until now to stop by.

With relief he had seen that the shop was in fact standing; but when his key does not click the lock open, he frowns. Carefully he turns it again, his eyes widening as he realizes it’s already unlocked. Would Dante be so careless? Possibly, but he softly slides it back to unlocked as he reaches for his revolver, drawing it from its holster as he steps inside.

It’s already dusk, and the main floor of the office is dim without the overhead lights on. Nero quickly scans the room, sweeping his eyes around as he holds the gun up, ready to take on any intruder. He steps inside completely, approaching the edge of the top step, his brow drawing down when he sees nothing inside.

A sound from the back catches his attention, and Nero nudges the door shut. It comes again, and he quickly walks down the handful of steps from the foyer, stopping just short of Dante’s desk. Warm light streams from the door that leads to the back kitchen, and he points the revolver straight ahead. “I can hear you, asshole,” Nero shouts. “This is my uncle’s shop, so you better have a damn good reason for being here.”

He grits his teeth as a familiar silhouette steps into view. Vergil leans against the doorjamb, holding a carton of ice cream and frowning at him as Nero’s arm relaxes. “I knew him first, you know,” he says dryly.

“What are you doing here?” demands Nero. “I nearly shot you.”

“I came for a snack. But the pickings are slim.” Vergil carves out a spoonful of ice cream, making a face as he eats it. “Dante’s not here, you know.”

“Yeah I know, that’s why I’m here.” Nero holsters his gun and rubs his forehead. He turns on a few lights, pulling the mail he had collected from his coat pocket and depositing it on the desk. “Does he know you’re here? I’m supposed to be checking on things.”

Vergil’s mouth quirks up. “In case you were unaware, Dante isn’t in charge of me.”

“How did you get in?”

“I broke the lock,” Vergil shrugs. “It was easy enough.”

Nero rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. You can explain that to him then. I’m going home.”

He turns to head out, but Vergil calls, “Why the rush? You just got here.”

“Yeah, but I told Kyrie I wouldn’t be long, and I don’t want to miss the kids’ bedtimes.”

Nero glances back at Vergil, who frowns slightly. “Since when do you have kids?”

Groaning, he drops his head. Doesn’t Vergil listen to anything? “Foster. From the orphanage. Where I grew up?” He searches for any response in Vergil’s face, but there is not so much as a flicker in his eye or a twitch in his cheek, so Nero sighs. “We have four now. Three boys and a girl. They’re good kids.”

Vergil tilts his head, as if considering. “Aren’t you a bit young to be a father?”

“Didn’t realize there was an age requirement.” Nero checks his phone, all at once feeling uncomfortable with the topic. “Like I said, I gotta get back—”

“Stick around. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something anyway,” Vergil says.

Nero’s brows twitch up; that is unexpected to say the least. Vergil gives no sign as to what that something is as they stare at one another, so Nero spreads his hands. “Well?”

His heart skips for a moment as Vergil seems to consider him. The things the two of them need to discuss could probably fill a bible, and his mind starts to flip through the possibilities. Is he finally going to tell him about his mother? Is he going to explain what happened when they met? Will Vergil apologize, ask forgiveness, pledge to do better? Oh Christ, what if he wants a _hug?_

“I noticed that your sparring skills are rather lackluster,” Vergil finally replies. “You need to work on your swordplay.”

The words don’t register at first, and Nero simply blinks. “What?”

“Your hand-to-hand is fine, and you know your way around a gun. But your use of the sword is… pedestrian at best.” 

He lifts his chin as if to accentuate the point, but Nero only frowns. “You think I need sword fighting lessons?” he scoffs. “What is this, the Dark Ages?”

Vergil’s lips grow thin as he glares. “It’s an admirable way to fight, and takes more finesse than just shooting bullets at your opponent.”

“I know how to use a sword,” Nero protests.

Now it is Vergil’s turn to sigh. “No, you don’t. You’ve had no proper training, that’s obvious. You’ll find yourself surrounded by enemies one day, and your bullets can only do so much.”

“Yeah well, must have been absent the day they taught sword fighting in elementary school.” Vergil makes another face, and Nero pushes off of the desk, ready for this conversation to be over. “On that note—”

“You’re right, you’ve probably not learned anything useful.” Nero shakes his head with a humorless laugh, knowing Vergil has no idea how insulting that is. “Our training started young, as soon as we could hold swords,” Vergil continues. “We should start yours now, before any more time is wasted.”

Nero frowns. “Now? I don’t think so, I gotta go.”

He takes a step, but before he even shifts his weight, the Yamato is pressed to his throat. Nero shoots a dark look at Vergil, who is grinning at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“Starting your education,” Vergil smiles. “You can’t leave until you disarm me.”

“Damn it, I don’t have time for this,” Nero says through gritted teeth. 

“Then you better try something,” replies Vergil.

Nero tries to nudge him back, but Vergil does not move. “I don’t have Red Queen with me!” he protests. “How am I supposed to sword fight without a sword?”

“That’s not my problem, is it?” Vergil replies pointedly. But he eases back, jerking his chin to the side. “Dante has plenty. Choose one.”

With his jaw clenched tightly, Nero slides past him. His plan is to walk right past Vergil to the door, but the other catches on immediately. Vergil swings Yamato towards him, forcing Nero to jump out of the way, rolling across the floor into a crouch with a cry. He pulls his revolver from its holster and points at Vergil, but a moment later the gun is knocked from his hand with the flat of the blade, skidding across the ground and landing at the foot of the stairs.

Angry now, Nero darts to the right. He slams into the wall with one palm and pulls a sword from the wall. The hilt has the head of a dragon seemingly biting the blade, its wings the guard. The blade is nearly as long as Yamato, and Nero adjusts his grip as he stands, his eyes glued to Vergil. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growls.

“We’ll see,” Vergil replies, and the hint of amusement in his voice makes Nero grit his teeth. “Advance.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nero spits back, but he does anyway. It’s true that he has never had any formal training—hell, none of his fighting abilities were through anything close to _formal_ training. He had signed up as a cadet for the guard that protected the Order, but with his arm and his natural strength and agility, the instructors had given him wide berth. Any time he did try to take part in the usual drills, he would quickly find himself either without a partner, or reassigned to some other duty. Nobody wanted to take on a freak with a glowing arm and the ability to knock a guy out with one punch, and if it hadn’t been for Credo’s intervention, Nero might not have ever made it through basic at all.

The memory of Credo actually gives him a boost. Credo _had_ agreed to train him, and showed Nero his way around a gun, and yes, even a sword. Those lessons were slim, however, but he calls on them now as he advances. Credo’s voice rises in his head with the drills, _Keep moving, Elbow up, Tighten the left,_ as Nero sweeps his sword towards Vergil, changing his stance and speed and trying to find an opening.

Yet every slash and strike are easily countered, and Vergil isn’t even breaking a sweat when Nero drops back to reassess. His eyes dart to the gun on the floor and Vergil warns, “I’m still faster than you.”

“Maybe,” Nero huffs. “But you’re uglier too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Vergil argues. “We look nearly identical, since you’re my son.”

Nero rolls his eyes. “Are we done?”

“Not hardly.”

This time Vergil is the one to advance. The difference in their skill level is immediate: where Nero’s technique is crude, more straight-forward, Vergil uses a variety of holds to twist and turn Yamato. Even though Nero parries each one, deflecting each strike away with a loud clash of metal, he has the feeling that Vergil is not showing him everything. Whether he is taking it easy on him out of concern or simply playing with him, Nero can’t be sure, but he is certain that Vergil is holding back.

Holding back, but not going easy. Vergil moves differently each time, forcing Nero to think and counter until his head is pounding. Within minutes he is covered in nicks and scratches on his arms and hands and chest, holes in his shirt he is sure Kyrie will cluck over later when she sews them up. How is he going to explain this stupid activity to her, explain why he is so late getting home? There has to be a way to come out on top, and he decides to double his efforts and just go for it. If Vergil’s strength is his technique, then Nero should use his complete lack of it. If there is one thing he knows about Vergil, it's that he hates simplicity; everything has to be dramatic and complicated with him. 

To his delight it actually _works,_ and when Nero lands a slice on Vergil’s arm, he grins when he sees the bit of red staining his coat. “What’s wrong, old man?” Nero laughs.

“One slice to your thirty,” Vergil snorts. “But you’re learning, a bit anyway.”

Both are breathing heavily now, and Nero wipes the sweat from his brow, his cuts stinging. He is tired from the long day and now this ridiculous fight, adrenaline and frustration the only thing keeping him engaged. “Cut me a break,” Nero groans. “Look, this has been a really swell time, but I really gotta go.”

“Then I suggest you disarm me,” Vergil replies.

With a growl of frustration, Nero yells, “I’m not gonna! You’re better than me, okay? Sorry I didn’t grow up in some super cool demon hunting group home, but I was in the regular kind, where I had to fight the other kids off with my fists.” He raises his sword and points it at Vergil, who looks at him with that same infuriating passivity. “You got sword lessons from your father? Well I didn’t. I’m not gonna disarm you, and we both know it. So piss off.”

Vergil stares at him for a long moment before saying, “Your footwork is off.”

“What?”

“You transfer your weight incorrectly.” He nods to the floor. “You bounce back and forth like a fighter, where in a duel you must be centered. The strength of your attack is done with your legs, not your shoulder.”

Nero’s brows draw in as his hand clenches around the hilt of the sword. “I see,” he answers slowly.

“Visualize your attack before just charging in,” Vergil continues. “And dodge sideways, not back.”

Swallowing thickly, Nero nods. Vergil advances again, and it’s actually harder this time, because his advice is echoing in his mind as he tries to fight him off _and_ remember to keep his feet planted _and_ stay quick _and_ dodge to the side. But he starts to get the hang of it, and despite the minor injuries his body grows warmer as it heals, his thrusts becoming more precise, sidestepping Vergil’s attacks a bit easier.

There is a tiny opening as Vergil sweeps around, and Nero takes it. With all his strength he launches himself in the air, tackling Vergil to the floor with a shout. Vergil curses but Yamato clatters on the ground, and Nero kneels up, pumping his fist in the air in triumph. “Yes!”

“Hardly an elegant win,” Vergil scoffs.

“Still a win.” Nero grins as he climbs to his feet. Vergil frowns up at him, so Nero sighs and offers him a hand up.

Vergil doesn’t take it, but his mouth does twitch as he stands. “You still need a lot of work.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Nero rubs the back of his neck as the air turns awkward, so he turns and hangs the sword back up on the wall. Behind him, Vergil sheaths the Yamato, and Nero clears his throat. “Is that why you and Dante fight all the time? To get better at it?”

Vergil actually chuckles. “No. I fight Dante because he’s an idiot. And it’s fun.”

Nero snorts. “Fair enough. Do you uh…” He looks around, not sure what to say, before glancing down. His cuts are pretty much healed, although there is blood and sweat on his clothes, and he sighs as he thinks of explaining this to Kyrie. “I do need to get home. Are you uh… you gonna be okay? Just here?”

“As if you could really hurt me,” Vergil replies. 

The cool demeanor is back, so Nero nods, crossing the room to pick up his gun. “Okay. Well then, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He slides the gun in his holster and glances at Vergil, who watches him in return. “This was… fun,” Vergil says.

“Yeah.” Nero hesitates again. “Thanks for the tips. I’ll keep it in mind.”

Vergil waves his hand in dismissal and heads back into the kitchen. Nero watches for a long moment, wishing he knew what the hell that was. _At least he didn’t kill me,_ he thinks, chuckling to himself as he heads out the door.


End file.
